


Old Town Road

by verhalen



Series: Corn Of Eternity [5]
Category: Flameborn (Multiverse), Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crack Treated Seriously, Elves Reborn As Mortal, Force-Sensitive Animals, Found Family, Government Conspiracy, Government Experimentation, Hoosier Upfuckery, Indiana, Magical Realism, Modern Era, Multi, No Smut, Polyamory, Prophetic Dreams, Reincarnation, The Force, Urban Fantasy, Visions in dreams
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:46:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28059411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verhalen/pseuds/verhalen
Summary: Sören always thought it was strange that his best friend Yeyette relocated from Paris, France to Terre Haute, Indiana. When he brings his partners to Indiana to come visit her, he finds out that things are stranger than he could have imagined... and things are about to get even stranger still.
Relationships: Nicholas Decaux (OMC)/Sören Sigurðsson (OMC)/Anthony Hewlett-Johnson (OMC), Yeyette Arnaud (OFC)/DeKalb Abernathy (OMC), Yeyette Arnaud (OFC)/Victor de l'Aigle (OMC)
Series: Corn Of Eternity [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1973479
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story may read more like original fiction rather than anything Tolkien-related unless you are familiar with previous works in my multiverse featuring these characters.
> 
> The _Corn of Eternity_ verse is part of the Flameborn multiverse; as you know, some things are consistent across the multiverse while other things change in different universes.
> 
> ~ ~ ~
> 
> Sören Sigurðsson and Anthony Hewlett-Johnson are my OMCs. Please refer to my [Transformative Works Statement](https://verhalen.dreamwidth.org/263827.html) for more information.
> 
> Nicholas Decaux is an OMC inspired by Dooku from Star Wars. 
> 
> Yeyette, DeKalb and Victor are [Detergent](https://archiveofourown.org/users/detergent/pseuds/detergent)'s OCs, borrowed with permission (she is a co-creator on this series).

**July 2019**  
  
  
"Yeyette!"  
  
Even though it had been at least a good seven years since Sören had last seen her in person, it was still unmistakably her - tall, with dark red waves a few inches down past her shoulders, green eyes, a stern face that lit up when she heard her name and saw him in the baggage claim. She was wearing dark blue jeans and a Pusheenicorn T-shirt - they were both wearing Pusheen shirts (though Sören's had Pusheen with donuts), they matched without trying. They ran to each other and hugged hard; Yeyette kissed him on both cheeks, French style, and tousled Sören's shoulder-length mop of dark curls.  
  
Nicholas and Anthony were still waiting for their luggage to roll up on the baggage claim, and once they had it, they wheeled their luggage over to where Yeyette and Sören were still hugging. Yeyette and Sören pulled back, and Sören put a hand on each of their shoulders. Sören was six feet tall, and Anthony was six-two, Nicholas a towering six-five. Anthony gave Sören's beard a little skritch.  
  
"Yeyette, these are my partners, Nicholas Decaux, of London but originally from France..." Nicholas was older than Sören by thirty-six years, with silver hair and beard, bushy eyebrows, intense dark eyes, high cheekbones and a patrician nose, dressed in a black tunic and black trousers, simple and elegant in an understated way, handsome in a severe way. "And Anthony Hewlett-Johnson, from London." Anthony had short black hair, wide-set green eyes - today he was wearing wire-rimmed glasses so he could see the airport signs and didn't have to mess around with contacts - and was boyishly handsome; for the plane ride he'd wanted to be comfortable and opted for his ancient Nirvana T-shirt and a pair of faded jeans, but the Rolex on his wrist and the expensive brogues on his feet betrayed his background. "Nick, Anthony, this is my best friend, Yeyette Arnaud."  
  
Nicholas took Yeyette's hand and kissed it. " _Un plaisir de vous rencontrer, madame._ "  
  
"Hi," Anthony said, shaking her hand warmly. "Sören has told us so many things about you, it's nice to finally be meeting you in person."  
  
"It's good to meet you too," Yeyette said, smiling. Her smile became a threatening scowl. "Now I can make sure you're taking good care of him, not like that bitch Juni -"  
  
"Jæja," Sören said, not wanting to get her started about his ex Juniper right now, and there was more about that horror story than even Yeyette knew. They were in an airport, and things tended to happen when either of them - or both - got angry; he didn't want the fire alarms to go off, or make some other scene. "Where are your -"  
  
Before he could conclude the question with "men", there they were, coming over with Starbucks they'd gotten from one of the cafes in the airport. The one with silver hair and the dapper grey suit with the waistcoat and old-fashioned pocketwatch, was carrying a tray of drinks.  
  
"Hello," he said, and then he smiled at Nicholas. "It's good to see you again, Nicholas."  
  
"Likewise," Nicholas said.  
  
When it had come up in conversation some time ago, Sören had thought it a funny coincidence that one of Yeyette's partners knew one of his partners, but then, it felt like they were all fated to meet, somehow.  
  
"This is Victor de l'Aigle," Yeyette said, gesturing to the one with the suit, "and this is DeKalb Abernathy."  
  
DeKalb was dressed down in a grey T-shirt and jeans. He had a rugged, chiseled face, with short greying brown hair, observant dark eyes. For a middle-aged man he had an impressive physique, muscles clearly defined under his T-shirt, and in his arms. "Nice to meet you," DeKalb said. "Welcome to Indiana." He took the drinks from Victor's tray and began passing the iced coffees around. "We didn't know what to get you, hope you guys don't mind iced hazelnut lattes."  
  
"Thank you, this is nice after the plane ride. It was a bit stifling," Anthony said.  
  
"Indeed," Nicholas said.  
  
"Já, it's good," Sören said, taking a big gulp. "You knew to get whipped cream for mine!" He grinned at Yeyette.  
  
"We thought you could use some refreshment after the long flight all the way from England," Victor said, "and likely wouldn't want to be in a crowded cafe."  
  
"You assumed correctly," Nicholas said. "Very thoughtful."  
  
"Aaaaand the ride from Indy to where we are is a good two hours, so we should probably get moving if y'all don't mind?" DeKalb asked.  
  
No one had any objection to that.  
  
As they began marching out of the airport, to make the long trek to where Yeyette and her partners were parked, Anthony started laughing.  
  
"What?" Sören asked.  
  
"You have whipped cream on your nose."  
  
"Dammit, every time I have Starbucks this happens," Sören said.  
  
"I know." Anthony leaned in to give him a little kiss. "Don't change."  
  
  
_  
  
  
Sören found it amusing that Yeyette, Victor and DeKalb had a minivan - none of them seemed like the minivan type. But then, he supposed it was practical transport for six people.  
  
It was a hot day; Sören knew July in Indiana was going to be considerably hotter than July in England - and July in Iceland, his home country - but he had still worked up a sweat by the time they made it to the van in the parking lot. He was grateful the van had good air conditioning.  
  
DeKalb drove, and Yeyette rode shotgun. Nicholas and Victor sat together in the middle row so they could catch up - Victor had brought his laptop and wanted to show him some files - and Sören and Anthony cuddled in the back. Sören saw Yeyette rummaging in the glove compartment and took out what he thought was breath mints, but when the object came floating in the air his way, Sören saw it was 24-hour allergy medication.  
  
"What's this for?" Sören asked.  
  
"You have asthma and the pollen count is ridiculous this time of year," Yeyette said. "Actually, Anthony, if you're not used to it and don't have any contraindicators, I would recommend taking one too."  
  
Anthony snorted. "Even if Sören hadn't told me you're a doctor, I would have been able to figure that out." He unscrewed the bottle and dispensed a tablet for each of them, then Anthony waved his hand and the bottle moved back up to the front of the van.  
  
The one thing all six of them had in common was Force sensitivity. It felt good to be able to use the Force openly around people other than Nicholas and Anthony. Sören had been worried about a slip with his anxiety on the flight, but had managed not to accidentally expose himself. Now he was starting to relax. He relaxed further when Yeyette put music on - she liked reggaeton, and so did he.  
  
As they made their way southwest on I-70, leaving Indianapolis in the direction of Terre Haute, and got enough speed going that they could turn off the air and have the windows down to let in a breeze, Sören realized what Yeyette had been talking about. They were driving past cornfields as far as the eye could see. "Wow, look at all that corn," Sören said. "That's incredible!"  
  
DeKalb chuckled. "You act like it's the Eighth Wonder of the World."  
  
"It is! There's farms where I come from in Iceland, up in Akureyri - my great-grandparents were farmers - but we don't grow corn like this, up there. I've never seen anything like it."  
  
"That corn is fucking evil," Yeyette said. "It's pollinating right now."  
  
"Awww, you don't want the corn to have sex?" Sören couldn't resist teasing her. "Let the corn have some fun..." Sören snickered. "You've got on the right music for it." A reggaeton song was playing where a guy was singing in Spanish about how he liked to go down on women.  
  
There was something hilarious to Sören about driving past seemingly infinite cornfields, in the heartland, with filthy reggaeton songs blasting on the stereo. Then they were behind a truck that just said TRUMP in all caps on the back of the cab, and when the truck pulled over to let them pass, the driver gave them an angry look and yelled "SPEAK ENGLISH!" out the window. Yeyette flipped the bird in response. While Sören was horrified people were like that, he also thought people like the truck driver deserved to be offended, and he laughed.  
  
"Welcome to Hoosierland, where we got good ol' heartland values," DeKalb said. "Fuckers."  
  
"Oh no," Yeyette said under her breath.  
  
"I put on a goddamn uniform and served this goddamn country for _all Americans_ , and that orange sonofabitch calling himself Commander-in-Chief who's never fought a day in his life seems to think 'America' is only a country for rich straight white 'Christian' dudes like him... Fuck, I should calm down because I'm driving and the cops get happy in this state if you're speeding just a little. And it gets worse. Wait till we get closer to home, you'll see what I mean."  
  
Sören had heard from Yeyette that DeKalb used to be in the Army, but she otherwise hadn't said much about his background, and considering Yeyette was one for detail - she was a doctor, and that meant having an investigative, observant mind - he knew there was something she was holding back... something she couldn't get into on the phone or over the Internet. He'd known ahead of time about the Force sensitivity because he and Yeyette had developed a code years ago when they were roommates in college. He had a feeling that the story with DeKalb involved Force sensitivity somehow, but whatever it was, they would tell him in due time, Sören was sure. It _was_ pretty weird they were living in Indiana, of all places; weirder still since Yeyette had been living in Paris after school. Paris, France to Terre Haute, Indiana was not a typical relocation. On the other hand, an Icelander living in Florida for a few years hadn't exactly been typical, either - he was still glad to be gone - but he had a feeling this situation was very different.  
  
Sören distracted himself by watching the corn. And then he started to see what DeKalb was talking about. First there was a billboard sign that proclaimed _PRAY TO END ABORTION_ with a count in the millions of "babies murdered". Sören cringed - he was strongly pro-choice, that wasn't even a question where he came from; he wondered if all the people who wanted to stop abortion were willing to pay for welfare to help poor single mothers, and guessed probably not.  
  
"It gets even worse," Yeyette said, picking up on his discomfort.  
  
A few minutes later there was a road sign that just said _JESUS_ , all caps... above a billboard advertisement for McDonald's with a giant cheeseburger that said "Beefy, cheesy glory." Anthony almost spat his coffee, and Sören and Anthony leaned on each other in hysterics, Sören laughing so hard his face hurt.  
  
Then there was a random wooden cross in the middle of a cornfield. "Someone should put a scarecrow on that," Anthony said.  
  
"Oh man, sometime we should drive back here, pull over, go out in the cornfield, and..." Sören could barely finish the sentence, laughing too hard at the mental image. "Three of us pose to make the letters M, C, and A."  
  
Anthony laughed harder. "That's a good plan."  
  
"I would approve, but the owner of that cornfield might come at us with a shotgun for trespassing," DeKalb said. "Lotta people packing heat out here."  
  
"Ugh, really?" Now it was Anthony's turn to cringe. "I keep forgetting America is much more relaxed on gun laws than we are."  
  
"I don't mind guns," DeKalb said. "I mind idiots who think having a gun compensates for having a tiny dick."  
  
Sören liked this guy already; he was refreshingly salt-of-the-earth. Though he made quite a contrast in comparison to Victor, quiet and refined in the way Nicholas was. Sören wondered again what the story was, and told himself to be patient.  
  
And then, there it was. Speaking of dick... "Oh my god, that sign looks like a dingdong... made of corn," Sören choked out, laughing so hard he gave himself a cramp, tearing up. "And it says..."  
  
"Yeah, yeah, shut up," DeKalb said.  
  
It was a very large, very phallic-shaped ear of corn, rising up like a penis growing erect, and it said DEKALB; Sören guessed it was some sort of corn company.  
  
"Is that how you got your name?" Sören felt almost bad ribbing him a little, but he couldn't resist, and if DeKalb was one of Yeyette's partners that made him family - this was how Sören was with family.  
  
"No," DeKalb said, driving just a little faster. "I was named for Johan de Kalb, who was a general during the American Revolution. Look. Him. Up."  
  
"I'm sorry," Sören said, but he really wasn't.  
  
"I'm not even from around here," DeKalb muttered. "I'm from Missouri."  
  
Sören found that even more curious - it would have made a certain amount of sense if DeKalb was from Indiana and Yeyette and Victor had moved out here for him, just like Sören had moved out to Florida for Juniper. But with DeKalb not even being from Indiana...  
  
"We'll explain later," Yeyette said, as if she picked up on Sören's curiosity.  
  
"Don't feel too bad," Sören said, hoping he didn't start on the wrong foot with his practically-brother-in-law. "Anthony isn't Anthony's given name, he has a weird first name too -"  
  
"Sören." Anthony glared.  
  
 _They're going to find out anyway if they see your passport,_ Sören spoke into his mind, and then he announced, "Anthony's first name is Cornelius. Anthony is his middle name."  
  
"Cornelius Anthony Hewlett-Johnson. Boy if that don't sound la-di-da," DeKalb said.  
  
"He does come from a posh background," Sören said. "But not so posh that he can't be a total dork." Sören gave him some pets in anticipation of what he was about to say next. "I like to bust his ass and call him Corn." Then Sören lost it again, having a gigglefit at the endless corn fields. "Oh shit, Corn, meet corn. DeKalb, meet DeKalb. DeKalb, meet Corn. It's Cornception up in here."  
  
"Corn of eternity," Yeyette said.  
  
"Thanks, I hate it," Anthony said.  
  
"You're welcome." Sören booped his nose.  
  
 _Allow me to show my gratitude later,_ Anthony spoke into Sören's mind, broadcasting a mental image of taking Sören over his knee and spanking him.  
  
 _Promises, promises._  
  
There was yet another sign for DeKalb corn as they came closer to the Terre Haute city limits, this one had the same phallic corn symbol but with the slogan "When Performance Counts".  
  
Anthony and Sören were both laughing so hard they started snorting. "I bet it does," Sören said.  
  
  
_  
  
  
Yeyette, Victor and DeKalb lived in Beauregard, Indiana, a small town outside of Terre Haute. Beauregard was an interesting mix of rural and urban - a Starbucks and Wal-Mart here, a farm with horses there. The three lived in the portion where it was mostly rural and a bit of a drive to get to civilization.  
  
Sören had sent Yeyette things in the mail before - at a post-office box or her place of employment at the hospital in Terre Haute, because she said her neighbors were nosy. Sören didn't know what he was expecting, but when Yeyette said "Almost there, here's our street now" as they turned onto a street with a sign that said Old Town Road, Sören and Anthony lost it again.  
  
Sören began singing, "I'm gonna take my horse to the Old Town Road, I'm gonna riiiiiiide till I can't no more..."  
  
"Hoorrrrse," Yeyette said, teasing Sören about his Icelandic accent, though she had a mild French accent herself.  
  
"Jæja, horse. Do you guys have a horse? Or horses?"  
  
"No," Yeyette said, though she broadcasted _someday maybe_ , and then she added, "And we moved here well before that song came out."  
  
"We rode on Old Town Road before it was mainstream," Victor said. "Pretend I have hipster glasses."  
  
"My husband, the memelord," Yeyette said. "Now you and Sören can have meme competitions, dear."  
  
" _Mon Dieu_ ," Nicholas said under his breath.  
  
"Most excellent," Victor said.  
  
The memeiness intensified when Yeyette said "we're heeeeere". Sören looked at a huge red brick farmhouse, three stories, with a barn nearby, then his eye caught a quaint green tin mailbox at the beginning of the long driveway, and Sören saw the number on the mailbox, repeated in iron-cast numbers on the farmhouse. "420420 Old Town Road." Sören loved it. "You guys live on _420420_ Old Town Road."  
  
"We don't blaze it," Victor said.  
  
"Only when you set the lab on fire," Yeyette quipped.  
  
"What?" Sören felt mildly concerned.  
  
"I have... a laboratory," Victor said, pronouncing it la-BOR-a-tor-y instead of LAB-ra-tor-y like most Americans; Sören knew of course that Victor wasn't American but that made him stand out even more. Victor pointed to what looked like a small whitewashed-boards chapel with a brick foundation, out in the enormous field of a yard, standing by a lone, very tall pine tree.  
  
"I see," Sören said.  
  
"Yes," Victor said in a way that hinted _I imagine you do_ and confirmed that they were probably out in Indiana for weird reasons. Sören felt like he had just fallen down a rabbit hole, and he had no idea where it was going to lead.  
  
"Well, welcome to Indiana," Yeyette said as they got out of the van, and opened up the back to retrieve the luggage. She gave Sören another hug. "Welcome home. Even if you're only going to be here three months... it's been too long."  
  
"It has," Sören said, feeling guilty all over again that they hadn't done this sooner, but life had been... life... for both of them.  
  
Yeyette gave him a noogie just before Sören grabbed one of his suitcases.


	2. Chapter 2

"Caaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat." Anthony's face lit up.  
  
An orange tabby with a white muzzle, a white ruff and white socks came trotting up to Sören, Anthony, and Nicholas to sniff; Anthony stooped immediately to begin petting the cat.  
  
"His name is Eugène," Yeyette said.  
  
Sören smiled as the cat rubbed against his legs. "Ah, this is the kitty you keep mentioning. He's even cuter than the pictures!"  
  
Anthony nodded as he stood back up. "I love cats. I grew up with cats."  
  
"You don't have a cat?" Yeyette frowned a little. "Sören would have mentioned something about it..."  
  
Anthony and Nicholas exchanged an awkward glance, then looked at Sören, who nodded, knowing what they were about to say - it was a bit of a sore spot. Nicholas cleared his throat and said, "I had a cat, named Virgatus, who passed on just under four years ago. He was very old for a cat, he lived to be twenty-eight."  
  
" _Wow._ " Yeyette's eyes widened.  
  
"In the time between moving out of my parents' place and getting together with Nicholas, I didn't have a cat even though I wanted one," Anthony said. "Going on digs from country to country... it's hard to travel with pets, especially in places that have strict animal quarantine laws. I at least got a few years with Virgatus before he died."  
  
"I never got to meet him," Sören said, "but I saw photos. He was a brown tabby."  
  
"Hence his name," Nicholas said. "Latin for 'striped'."  
  
Anthony and Sören each took one of Nicholas's hands and squeezed; Sören knew Virgatus had been like Nicholas's child, and Nicholas was still grieving four years later. "It had felt a bit soon to get another cat until more recently," Nicholas said. "We've been talking about adopting a cat, or perhaps a pair of cats, when we return to London."  
  
Yeyette gave a sympathetic little smile. "In the meantime, feel free to spoil Eugène here."  
  
"Twist my arm," Anthony said dryly.  
  
"Let me show you to your room," Yeyette said.  
  
Carrying their luggage, they climbed steps to the top floor. Sören was a little out of breath at the top step - he had asthma - but it wasn't too bad. As they walked down the hall, Sören glanced over at Nicholas, more concerned for Nicholas's arthritis, but Nicholas looked over at him and spoke into his mind, _I'm all right, dearest._  
  
 _I hope so._ Sören flashed him a teasing grin. _Don't want you to be too sore to..._  
  
"There you are," Yeyette said, gesturing.  
  
The bedroom was huge - at least twice the size of the bedroom in their flat in London. They had a California King four-poster bed that would be a comfortable fit for the three tall men, one short but wide wooden dresser, and two tall dressers. All the furniture matched, wooden, stained cherry. "Solid oak," Yeyette said, observing Sören noticing.  
  
"Nice," Anthony said.  
  
The bedspread and curtains had a teal and grey knotwork pattern on a white background. The pillowcases were solid navy. Sören smiled at the print of Van Gogh's _Starry Night_ \- his favorite painting - in a cherry oak frame that matched the furniture. In one of the corners of the room there was a beige scratching post, and on top of one of the tall dressers was a bouquet of fireflower roses in a teal blue ceramic vase with cracks lined with gold, in the Japanese _kintsugi_ style, that Sören had made for Yeyette when they were at university together, and roommates. Sören's eyes misted at the sight of the vase.  
  
 _You still have it._  
  
Yeyette gently nudged him. _Of course._ A sigh. _We couldn't bring a lot with us when we came from France, but... I insisted on bringing that._  
  
Sören swallowed hard, deeply touched that the vase had survived when other things hadn't. He patted Yeyette's shoulder. He was also even more curious now about how Yeyette ended up in Indiana, or more precisely, _why_. He knew from his own firsthand experience that moving to another country usually involved some downsizing, but it also usually didn't involve getting rid of almost everything. That, combined with the fact that Paris to Terre Haute was a very _strange_ move, suggested something was going on. But now didn't seem like the right time to press it. Soon... but not now.  
  
Sören, Nicholas, and Anthony set their luggage down and Yeyette took them down the hall. "There's the bathroom," she said - it was done in cream tile, and had a walk-in-shower with glass doors. "There's another guest bedroom that way..." Sören peeked down and saw another fully furnished, but unused, bedroom, with a smaller bed, two dressers instead of three, and the bedspread and curtains were solid navy blue. "And this is a sort of common area, like your own personal living room." There was a third guest bedroom that, instead of a bed and dressers, had a navy loveseat and a teal armchair, two leather ottomans, a black bookshelf along one wall, and a black desk with a leather office chair a few feet away from a large window that gave an impressive view of the farmland and some of the town. There was also a three-story cat tree by the window, and a cat-sized drinking fountain in the corner. Anthony smiled at it.  
  
"Eugène likes to roam the house," Yeyette explained, "so we make sure he gets enough water. I'll be in to change the filter every so often."  
  
"Oh, I can do it while we're here," Anthony offered, "or one of us can." Sören and Nicholas nodded. "Does he have a catbox up here too?" Anthony raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Er, no," Yeyette said, in a way that suggested the talk of catboxes made her somewhat uncomfortable. That, too, was strange - Sören knew Yeyette was a toxicologist and that wasn't exactly a job for the squeamish. But maybe it was just her not wanting guests to feel like they had to do the catbox. Sören wasn't going to ask about that now, either.  
  
They followed Yeyette back downstairs so she could show them the living room - Sören smiled at the real fireplace, thinking that must be nice and cozy in the winter - and the kitchen, which had a rustic feel with wood finish. "You have free access to the kitchen," Yeyette said. "It's open twenty-four hours. You can share our food, you're also welcome to keep any of your own food here, we won't steal it." She smirked. "I can't promise the cat won't, though."  
  
Nicholas chuckled. "Is Eugène a rapscallion?"  
  
Anthony and Sören laughed - Sören loved it when Nicholas used old-fashioned words. Yeyette laughed too. "He can be," she said; Eugène trilled softly and climbed up into her arms, giving them a look as if to protest his innocence. "Huh?"  
  
"Prrrp?" Eugène headbutted her face.  
  
Yeyette made coffee - an opportunity to show them where the coffee maker was, and the coffee, and the sugar and other fixings. When the coffee was ready, as they let it cool, DeKalb looked at the grandfather clock by the stairwell and back at Sören and his partners. "I feel bad for asking this when I know you guys had a long flight and probably want to just kick back for awhile, but if you guys wouldn't mind coming along grocery shopping, I'd like to get there before it starts to get real busy," DeKalb said.  
  
"We would have asked you in advance for a list of preferences with food and snacks, but I thought things might be different enough here it's better to see in-person," Yeyette said.  
  
"I don't mind," Sören said.  
  
"I don't mind either," Anthony said.  
  
"Nicholas, if you want to stay behind, I can show you the exercise setup in the basement, which is mostly DeKalb's," Victor said. "But I have a space for fencing."  
  
Nicholas's eyes widened and then he chuckled with an approving nod. "Yes, thank you. I belong to a fencing club in London, but as you know we're not there currently, so... it would be nice to have regular practice with someone close to my own skill level." Then Nicholas's brow furrowed. "I didn't bring my rapier..."  
  
"There is a spare," Victor said.  
  
Sören smiled and rubbed Nicholas's shoulder. Sören thought Nicholas and Anthony had both been good sports about this whole thing - while Nicholas and Victor were old acquaintances, that in and of itself did not warrant going to Indiana for three months. They were indulging him, and Sören was glad that Nicholas, at least, would get an outlet for one of his hobbies while he was here.  
  
Sören couldn't feel too bad for Anthony either - now Eugène was perched on the arm of the couch and Anthony was skritching him, talking singsong baby talk as the cat purred loudly, leaning into Anthony's touch. "Yes, you're a good boy. Yes you are. You're such a sweet baby. Such a sweet widdle baby boy, such a big purr for such a widdle baby. Look at your widdle ruff and your widdle sockses, your widdle feetsies are so cute..." Eugène wrapped a paw around Anthony's wrist and Anthony's smile got bigger as he said, "Awww, wook at your widdle toe beans..."  
  
Nicholas's lips quirked and he shook with silent laughter as he took a sip of his coffee. Sören's laughter was less silent. Anthony realized he was going a bit overboard and he stopped, cheeks pink. "Er," Anthony said.  
  
Sören patted his head. "Don't stop on our accounts."  
  
Anthony quickly finished his coffee. "Right, shall we get going to the store?"  
  
This time Yeyette was driving, with DeKalb in the passenger's seat. The store was in the opposite direction of the way they'd come into the neighborhood from the airport. Sören's jaw dropped as he saw their next-door neighbors' house, white, two stories, which boasted an enormous American flag on a pole, an equally enormous wooden cross on the front lawn, a TRUMP PENCE lawn sign, and what appeared to be a broken refrigerator on the front porch, and a rusted, beat-up red Mustang up on cinder blocks on the lawn a few meters away from the cross and the flag.  
  
Anthony's eyes were huge. "What..."  
  
"That's the Busch clan," DeKalb said, and then he explained, "No, not related to the former president, and Busch with a C."  
  
"C for Christian," Yeyette said. "If you ever run into them, they'll talk your ear off trying to convert you."  
  
"C for _Crap_ ," DeKalb said. "They let their goddamn dog shit every damn where and don't pick up after it."  
  
"C for Clown Car," Yeyette said, snickering.  
  
DeKalb also chuckled. At Sören and Anthony's confused looks, DeKalb said, "They're that particular kind of fundamentalist called Quiverfull that believes God wants them to have a shitload of babies -"  
  
"Hence my comment," Yeyette said. "A vagina is not a clown car."  
  
DeKalb nodded, laughing harder, then he got more serious as he said, "They have _seven kids._ " Anthony was staring out the window again in a bit of shock, and DeKalb gave Sören a pointed look. "What kind of whacko has seven kids? Seriously."  
  
"I knew some pretty weird people in Florida," Sören said, "but this is weird even by Florida standards." He patted Anthony, who couldn't stop staring behind them at the eyesore of the neighbors' property, as if he were in disbelief of everything he was seeing and hearing.  
  
"Welcome to Indiana," DeKalb said. "The only place more backwards than this is Texas. It's like stepping into some fucked-up alternate dimension."  
  
"So how did you end up here?" Sören couldn't resist asking now.  
  
DeKalb and Yeyette looked at each other and after a pause they nodded. "We'll tell you later," Yeyette said. "It's a bit of a story."  
  
  
_  
  
  
"Those aren't chips." Anthony looked aghast as Sören pulled a bag of Ruffles cheddar-and-sour-cream potato chips off the shelf. "They're crisps."  
  
Yeyette pursed her lips and shook her head. "Oh no, what you call chips, are called fries here. And what you call crisps, the Americans call chips."  
  
Anthony narrowed his eyes. "Why."  
  
"Because this is Murrika," DeKalb quipped.  
  
Anthony made a face like he'd just sucked a lemon. Sören couldn't help laughing a little.  
  
DeKalb pushed the cart along. "Just be glad we're back to calling them French fries and not, yanno, freedom fries."  
  
"Freedom to do what, butcher the Queen's English?"  
  
"Don't worry, it gets worse," Sören said, patting him. He'd gone to university in the States and worked at Boston Medical Center before he lived in Florida for two, almost three years, and though he was an immigrant he had also become familiar enough with American words for things that it had been a bit of an adjustment in London; he imagined that would also be true for Anthony and Nicholas here in the States.  
  
DeKalb turned and they entered the beverages aisle. Yeyette and DeKalb put bottled water in the cart; there were bottles and cases of Coke and Pepsi and other soft drinks which could be found all over the world, so that wasn't a strange sight to Anthony. But Anthony was still musing on the culture shock. "Sometimes I lay awake at night wondering why Americans call the liquid they put in their cars 'gas'."  
  
DeKalb cleared his throat. "Speaking of liquid, I hear y'all like tea over there." He gestured to jugs of sweet tea.  
  
Anthony's jaw dropped and for a moment he couldn't make words. Then just strangled sounds came out. Sören covered his mouth, trying not to laugh too hard, but a snort escaped and Anthony glared. Sören batted his eyes innocently.  
  
Finally Anthony found his words. "You know, suddenly it makes much more sense to me why your country is the way it is, when I see the barbaric way you lot treat tea. Your country was founded dumping perfectly good tea in a harbor... now this."  
  
DeKalb guffawed. "The veep's in town, you might not want to let the administration hear any of this or Trump'll be on Twitter... 'England's not sending us their best people'..."  
  
Anthony rolled his eyes. "He could build the bloody wall out of this..." He picked up a jug of sweet tea. "It would be quite effective at keeping us out."  
  
Sören quietly took the jug of sweet tea out of Anthony's hands and put it in the cart. Then he grinned as he saw a case of small bottles of peach tea, which he'd developed a taste for at university. "Peach! My favorite." He put the case in the cart.  
  
They got perishables last - cheese, milk, ice cream and popsicles, meat. "We were thinking of having a cookout tonight to welcome you guys," DeKalb said, looking at an assortment of different flavors of bratwurst. "Burgers, brats... or do you prefer hot dogs?"  
  
"I like both," Sören said.  
  
"Either is fine." Anthony nodded. Then he looked at Sören and quipped, "You eating a brat seems cannibalistic."  
  
"It's settled then, let's have brats," Sören said, snickering. He took down a package of jalapeno bratwurst - he'd also developed a taste for hot-and-spicy food during his years in the States. DeKalb nodded and put it in the cart. He added a package of regular brats as well.  
  
"Oh boy, that's one thing I can get now that I'm back in the States," Sören said, realizing.  
  
"What?" There was an unspoken _here we go again_ at the end of Anthony's sentence.  
  
"Corn dogs," Sören said. "It feels like forever since I had a corn dog."  
  
Yeyette's laughter rang out. "You and your corn dogs."  
  
Anthony looked like he had no idea what Sören was on about.  
  
"Listen, it's one of the things I appreciate about American culture," Sören said. He was curious now. "What kind of foods are particular to Indiana? I like to try regional stuff when I live somewhere, though I never had gator when I lived in Florida."  
  
"Uh..." DeKalb said, "well, off the top of my head... pork tenderloin sandwich. If you like pork, and you like fried and breaded or battered stuff, you'd like that, probably."  
  
"Probably. It's my guilty pleasure as a doctor, but what good is life expectancy if you're living on rabbit food?" Sören chuckled. "Where do you get, ah, pork tenderloin sandwich?"  
  
"Some restaurants around here likely have them but I couldn't tell you which ones. I've heard, though, that the best ones come from carnivals. The corn dogs are better at carnivals, too. There's a carnival in Terre Haute this summer, we were thinking about taking you while you're here."  
  
Sören's ex Juniper used to work at a carnival, which was how they met - he'd been in Florida on vacation after a breakup and went to Disney World and to a few other tourist traps, including the carnival; he'd ended up transferring to a hospital in Orlando a couple of months later, moving to Florida to be with her. Reminders of Juniper still made him a bit touchy, but he hated that something fun had been tainted by association and he had lamented to Yeyette in e-mail once that he wished he could reclaim some of those old things as fun again.  
  
"Sounds like a plan," Sören said. "My quest for the pork tenderloin sandwich. And corn dogs."  
  
Yeyette cackled.  
  
When they got to the checkout, Sören and Anthony both tried to get DeKalb and Yeyette to accept money for the groceries - Sören knew they weren't poor, but it was still the principle, since he knew they were having to buy more food to accommodate guests. DeKalb seemed proud and unwilling to accept their credit cards, but finally he said to Sören, "If you insist on paying us for your board, Yeyette says you're an artist. Maybe you can paint or sculpt something for the living room."  
  
"You haven't seen my work, have you, apart from the vase?" Sören folded his arms. "You don't even know if you like it."  
  
"I like the vase, and as far as anything else goes... Yeyette says you're damn good, and she wouldn't say something like that just to be nice."  
  
Sören snorted. _No, she wouldn't._ Yeyette was opinionated, and a bit unrestrained in those opinions... but that was one of the things he liked about her, even if others found it offputting. He didn't like social games and having to guess if people were being sincere or not; he never had to worry about that with Yeyette.  
  
Just as Sören put his wallet back in his pocket, his phone began to vibrate. Sören stopped himself from using the Force to slip the phone out without touching it - that was a very bad idea in public. He reached for the phone and saw it was a text from Serena.  
  
 _hi sweetie just wanted to make sure u landed safe :)_  
  
"Sorry, I have to take this," Sören said, stepping aside to fire back a reply. _Hi, sorry for not texting back sooner. Yes, we're fine._  
  
A few seconds later, Serena sent back a few heart emojis.  
  
Sören laughed, face on fire. He also sent heart emojis. Then he asked _So do you know what your schedule looks like? Will you get some time soon for us to finally meet?_  
  
The reply took a bit longer. _were really understaffed right now so im not gonna have time for few weeks yet, the only day off each week ill have to nap and catch up on chores sorry_  
  
Sören's heart sank a little, and he wondered for a moment if he was being ghosted - if now that meeting each other in-person was possible instead of just a dream, Serena had lost interest - but then she sent back an additional reply. _i still want to meet u bb! itll just be later in august or maybe even early september._  
  
 _OK._ Sören felt himself nodding as he replied. _I'm at the store, but we'll talk soon?_  
  
 _we will._ A heart emoji.  
  
Sören walked back over. "That was Serena," he explained to Anthony, and to Yeyette.  
  
Yeyette's jaw set. DeKalb looked confused - Sören took it Yeyette hadn't clued him in about everything. "Serena?" DeKalb asked.  
  
Before Sören could respond, Yeyette said, "The other reason he's in Indiana. That's his, ah, long-distance girlfriend."  
  
Sören nodded. "This visit kills two birds with one stone. I get to see my best friend for the first time in ages and catch up, and meet my girlfriend."  
  
"So you guys met online or something?" DeKalb asked.  
  
Sören nodded again. "Yeah, we met on a game we both play." Sören felt a little like he was on trial... but more from Yeyette than DeKalb, even though Yeyette already knew. He could practically see smoke coming out her ears. "I know you worry," Sören said, reaching out to put a hand on Yeyette's arm, patting. "But she's not Juniper. This is a very different situation than Juniper. And I mean, I met Nicholas and Anthony online and you see how that turned out -"  
  
"I know I'm probably just being paranoid, yes," Yeyette said, scowling. "But after what happened with Juniper I think I have a right to worry."  
  
"You do," Sören said - Juniper had been a nightmare and she didn't even know the half of it.  
  
They began checking out. As Yeyette put items on the belt she asked, "When are you and Serena going to meet each other face-to-face, anyway?"  
  
"That was part of what we just talked about," Sören said. "She's not going to get much time off for the next few weeks. I know her job keeps her really busy, she said they're understaffed, so she spends her one day off a week doing chores and catching up on sleep. She said we'll likely be meeting in late August or early September."  
  
"That doesn't seem a little fishy to you?" Yeyette asked.  
  
"Well, no," Sören said, though he thought again about the worry that she was ghosting him. "I mean, your hours get crazy sometimes, and you know my hours could get crazy too..."  
  
"She's not a doctor," Yeyette said, her eyes locked with Sören's.  
  
Sören appreciated her concern, but he also felt like she was mothering him just a little, and they were the same age. He raised an eyebrow, and Yeyette raised one back, and then Yeyette resumed putting items on the belt, not saying anything more, as if she knew to back off, but Sören had a feeling it wouldn't be the last time she'd express concern. And he knew she wasn't wrong for doing so - she had with Juniper and he hadn't listened and of course that had turned into a shitshow - but he had been more careful this time. He really wanted to believe things would work out.  
  
Thinking about Juniper again put him on edge, and on the ride back home he opened up the bag of cheddar-and-sour-cream potato chips and started eating, and that helped a little - especially when Anthony, despite his protests that they were crisps and not chips, put his hand in the bag to share and their fingers brushed. But Sören still felt a bit uneasy, and he hoped this was just Yeyette worrying and not her bullshit detector going off. He didn't want another repeat of the Juniper experience or something even worse.  
  
At least he had Nicholas and Anthony looking out for him. He stopped eating, rolled up the bag, and rested his head on Anthony's shoulder. They had done the best job they could with picking up the broken pieces when he came out to London almost two years ago; that had gone right, and Sören was grateful for them. Anthony put an arm around Sören and began to pet his curls.


	3. Chapter 3

"This is nice," Sören said, sipping his margarita as he watched the sunset fade to twilight, a deep blue with lingering gold and pink streaks in the sky.  
  
"It'll be nicer when the food is done," DeKalb said. "I know how many brats you guys usually want..." He looked at Victor and Yeyette. Then he glanced at Sören, Nicholas, and Anthony. "What about you?"  
  
"Two for me," Anthony said.  
  
"Regular or jalapeno?"  
  
"May I have one of each?"  
  
"Yup," DeKalb said. It was Nicholas's turn next. "What about you?"  
  
"Two, and if they could both be regular, that would be appreciated," Nicholas said.  
  
"Not a fan of jalapeno?"  
  
"I'm afraid I don't have much tolerance for spiced things. I get indigestion." Nicholas made a face like he'd sucked on a lemon.  
  
"Meanwhile, Sören here is part-dragon," Anthony joked.  
  
Sören nodded enthusiastically. "Three brats, all of them jalapeno if you please."  
  
"You got it," DeKalb said.  
  
Yeyette snickered. "The more things change... I remember when we used to go out for Mexican food and you'd order the hottest salsa to go with your chips and it still wouldn't be hot enough."  
  
"Though, that little hole-in-the-wall place was fucking amazing," Sören said. "I'd love to go back there sometime."  
  
"That was in your university days? Yeyette says you were roommates." DeKalb started loading brats on the grill.  
  
Sören nodded. "Já, we were." Then he quickly added, "We lived together but we never..."  
  
"She said that too, and I believe her," DeKalb said. "Though... you're, uh, bisexual, right? Not gay? And you didn't even try to..."  
  
"Bi but I lean more towards men, yes," Sören said. "Oh don't get me wrong, Yeyette is a lovely lady... but when we became friends, I knew she needed _just_ a friend, not yet another person treating her like a sex object."  
  
"And vice versa," Yeyette said.  
  
Sören sighed, remembering how he was a bit wild in his younger years... and had gotten roofied at a party. He didn't want to tell Yeyette's partners the sad story, but Yeyette knew, and so did Nicholas and Anthony.  
  
"A lot of people have assumed we're a couple because of how close we are," Yeyette said, "and of course, Sören's ex Juniper was _very_ jealous of me, to the point where she tried to forbid him to have any contact with me."  
  
"Which should have raised a bigger red flag than it did," Sören said.  
  
"That seems a bit controlling," DeKalb said. "Not to mention that it's not good she didn't believe you when you told her nothing was going on."  
  
"The irony is that she cheated on him," Yeyette said.  
  
Sören looked down. DeKalb turned around, a sympathetic look on his face.  
  
"The bigger irony is that we had an open relationship," Sören said, "so long as we were up-front with each other about who we were seeing. Though, Juniper didn't want me seeing other women - men were fine - and Juniper lied to me about her side action. I came home one day and caught her in the act, and I'd had no clue what was going on."  
  
"That bitch," Yeyette snarled.  
  
Sören was grateful they were outside, not wanting the smoke detector to start going off. "Well, I'm rid of her now. And I've got two great guys."  
  
"How did you guys meet?" Yeyette asked. "You never told me."  
  
Sören's face burned - the reason why he never told Yeyette how they met was it involved a bit of TMI, and while Sören and Yeyette knew each other's TMI a bit more than most just-friends did by virtue of having lived together during university, nonetheless, there were certain subjects Sören didn't like to bring up around Yeyette. But he knew he wasn't going to evade the question so easily. He glanced at Nicholas and Anthony to make sure it was OK to discuss, and they both nodded. Sören gave a little clear of his throat and he said, "FetLife."  
  
"What?"  
  
"It's... kind of like Facebook for kinky people," Sören said.  
  
"It was Anthony's idea to sign up," Nicholas said, looking a bit sheepish.  
  
Sören went on, "They were two gay doms in a committed relationship looking for a submissive to share, so we started talking and eventually they came out to Florida for a little vacation, so we could meet in-person, and we clicked even more offline. They had been looking for just a play partner initially but we all caught the feelings and it got more serious than that, serious enough that they told me I could live with them when I left Juniper."  
  
"I see," Yeyette said.  
  
"I'm sorry." Sören's face burned even more. "I mean, I could have made up some bullshit like 'we met at Disney World!' but..."  
  
"No, it's all right." Yeyette patted him. "You're consenting adults, and so long as you're all happy..."  
  
"Very much so." Sören beamed at his partners; Anthony affectionately tousled Sören's curls and Nicholas leaned in to kiss Sören on the cheek. Sören skritched Nicholas's beard, making Nicholas smile, and then Sören booped Anthony's nose.  
  
It only seemed fair for Sören to ask in return - and finally resolve his curiosity about how Yeyette had ended up in _Indiana_ , of all places. "So now I have to ask how the three of you happened," Sören said. "And how Indiana happened."  
  
"Well..." Yeyette looked at Victor, then DeKalb.  
  
"It started with a laboratory accident," Victor said. "I used the Force to save lives... and of course, ended up exposing myself. Which led to Yeyette inadvertently exposing herself. We were sitting at home having coffee sometime later, and soldiers stormed the house."  
  
"Operation Candledark," DeKalb said. "Also, the last straw of last straws. It was bad enough to go fight an ethically dubious war in the Middle East. I didn't approve of our government just rounding up civilians - both our own and people in other fucking countries - and hauling them away to use them like lab rats... or walking weapons. I _really_ didn't approve of them sending someone like me on a mission like that, treating them like fucking terrorists just for existing. I resigned my commission, though first, I was told I could do some good. Help get their things over from France, while I had the power to do so."  
  
"After we had spent some time in a... facility, we were relocated by the United States government," Victor said.  
  
"As they do with known Force sensitives, well, the ones they're not using as guinea pigs," DeKalb said. "Someplace with a lot of people, like New York City, risks a very public incident with a lot of witnesses. Someplace way out, like Utah or Wyoming, risks being too peculiar to fit into the community, or too far away from civilization in an emergency, which also risks a public incident with witnesses. So Indiana is that happy medium between too many people around and too few."  
  
"I would not quite call it happy," Victor quipped.  
  
"No," DeKalb said. "Anyway, I hit it off with Yeyette and... got to go where they went. The government found work for me here, as a ranger."  
  
Sören let out a low whistle. He considered himself very lucky that thus far, his Force sensitivity had not been exposed. He'd been careful, but he'd had some close calls. He also felt terrible for Yeyette, Victor and DeKalb, knowing how traumatizing that must have been for Yeyette and Victor, how demoralizing that must have been for DeKalb, for the country to betray the values that had sent him into the service. "Jesus, I'm sorry."  
  
"We make the most of it," Yeyette said. "I wouldn't have chosen Indiana, personally, but... home is where the heart is." She reached out to put a hand on Victor's arm, and a hand on DeKalb's shoulder. DeKalb leaned down and kissed the top of her head, and Victor gave her a squeeze.  
  
"And you guys aren't..." Victor and DeKalb hadn't registered on Sören's gaydar at all, but he didn't like to assume.  
  
"No," DeKalb said. "I'm straight."  
  
"Hi Straight, I'm Sören." Sören had to.  
  
DeKalb gave him a look.  
  
"I am also heterosexual," Victor said. "Yeyette and I have an arrangement that I suppose the people of FetLife would call 'stag and vixen', though with equal power in the relationship."  
  
"Ah, OK." Sören nodded. "That makes sense. I wasn't judging, anyway."  
  
"Didn't think you were," DeKalb said. "Brats are almost done."  
  
When the brats and burgers were ready, DeKalb loaded plates and served everyone one at a time. As DeKalb got his own plate, on his way to sit down he paused, looked down at the ground and frowned. "Fucking _hell_ ," he snarled.  
  
"What happened?" Yeyette asked.  
  
DeKalb looked at Sören, Anthony, and Nicholas. "Remember how I was telling you our neighbors - the ones with the huge cross on their lawn -"  
  
"And seven kids," Sören said.  
  
"Let their dog shit everywhere?" DeKalb lifted his leg and pointed to his shoe, which now had dog doo on it.  
  
Before Sören could express sympathy, DeKalb marched towards the house. Sören hoped DeKalb wasn't so disgusted by the dog shit he wasn't going to be able to eat, but a few minutes later DeKalb came out with a camo-green megaphone that said US ARMY on it. DeKalb stormed to the edge of their property and they watched as DeKalb raised the megaphone to his mouth and hollered: "HEY! BUSCHES! I JUST STEPPED IN DOG SHIT! AGAIN! I WAS UNITED STATES ARMY AND WHEN I PUT ON THAT UNIFORM TO FIGHT FOR YOUR FREEDOM, IT WAS NOT THE FREEDOM FOR YOUR GODDAMN DOG TO SHIT EVERY GODDAMN WHERE! THIS IS YOUR FINAL WARNING BEFORE I WRITE YOU A CITATION FOR NOT OBEYING LEASH LAWS!"  
  
DeKalb walked back over, a surly expression on his face. Sören noticed he'd cleaned the dog shit off his shoe; Sören smelled hand sanitizer as DeKalb sat down. DeKalb tore into his burger like it had personally offended him and he was biting it to death.  
  
"Can you do that?" Anthony asked. "Write them a citation, I mean."  
  
DeKalb nodded. "Part of my job with DNR. I haven't so far because I haven't wanted to start trouble with the neighbors, but this is, no joke, the _fourth_ time this week I've stepped in that dog's shit... and that's just this week."  
  
"They shouldn't be allowing their dog to run around unleashed on _your_ property," Nicholas said. "That's disrespectful."  
  
"And rude that they don't pick up after the dog," Anthony said.  
  
"Oh, but you know, Jesus taught 'love thy neighbor as thyself,'" DeKalb said. "They're either fucking hypocrites or their house has piles of dogshit."  
  
Sören made a face, but continued eating.  
  
  
_  
  
  
  
Despite the exhaustion of the long flight, Sören always had trouble sleeping his first few nights in a new place. When he finally got to sleep, his bladder woke him up after a couple of hours. Sören went down the hall to the bathroom and when he turned on the bathroom light, he gasped at what he saw - Eugène was perched on the toilet, peeing in it. Eugène gave him a grumpy expression, and Sören reflexively closed the door.  
  
A few seconds later Sören felt like an idiot, knowing he'd trapped the cat in the bathroom. He heard the toilet flush, and just before Sören could open the door, it opened on its own and Eugène came trotting out.  
  
 _He's not only toilet-trained, he flushed the toilet_ and _he opened the door. What the fuck._  
  
Sören did his business, and realized this probably accounted for Yeyette's reaction when Anthony had offered to clean the catbox, and Yeyette seemed uncomfortable. Sören still couldn't believe it - he pinched himself to make sure he wasn't still dreaming, and splashed cold water on his face. He wondered if he was hallucinating.  
  
He went downstairs. Even though his bladder had woken him up and he knew drinking something would probably make him have to go again in a few hours, his mouth was cottonball dry now, and he was shaking just a little, heart beating faster. _What the fuck is this. What the fuck..._  
  
Yeyette was sitting at the kitchen table in a bathrobe. "Oh," Sören said. "I didn't realize you'd be up -"  
  
"Sometimes I have trouble sleeping, or staying asleep," Yeyette said.  
  
Sören nodded. He imagined she'd had a rough time after the Operation Candledark raid, not to mention everything he knew about her life. He poured himself a glass of ice water from the pitcher, and noticed the pitcher was getting low. He walked over to the tap and turned it on, and the smell made him grimace, like rotten eggs.  
  
"The water quality out here is terrible," Yeyette said. "It's bad in all of Indiana from what I hear, but it's really bad in Terre Haute. I'll show you where the bottles are." She waved her hand and one of the bottom cupboards opened, where there were gallon jugs of water. Sören used the Force to lift one, and once it was on the counter he opened it and poured it in the pitcher. Then he walked back to the fridge and put the pitcher in.  
  
Sören sat back down at the table with his glass of ice water. "Yeyette, can I ask you a question? It's going to sound completely mad, but..."  
  
Yeyette gave a thin smile. "After everything I've seen, probably not."  
  
"OK." Sören took a deep breath. "Am I losing my mind, or can your cat use the toilet? And the Force?"  
  
Yeyette threw her head back and laughed, and then clapped her hand over her mouth, realizing her laughter was loud, not wanting to disturb the house. Then, hand over her mouth, still shaking with silent laughter, Yeyette just nodded. She took her hand away from her mouth; Eugène was walking in the kitchen now, tail raised, and he ran over when he saw Yeyette and hopped on her for pettings, purring loudly. "He can," Yeyette said. "I thought it was better to show you than tell you, since, yes, it does sound completely mad."  
  
"Wow," Sören said. He leaned back in his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose. "That's... something."  
  
"He's a very talented boy," Yeyette said. "He's helped keep me sane through everything."  
  
Sören patted Yeyette's hand. "I'm sorry about... well. All of this. I wish there was something I could have done -"  
  
"I don't know what you could have done to prevent it." Yeyette gave a resigned little shrug.  
  
"I still... feel bad." Sören sighed. Then he raised an eyebrow. "Are we putting you in any danger by being here?"  
  
"No, I wouldn't have agreed to the visit if you were, or I would have asked you to stay in a hotel rather than with us." Yeyette skritched Eugène behind the ears, and Eugène leaned into the touch, purring louder, then nuzzled her hand. "I'm more worried about you than I am about myself."  
  
"With the government?"  
  
"No... well... mostly no. The three of you seem to have managed not to show up on their radar so far. What I mean is Serena." Yeyette scowled. "I can't tell you not to have a relationship with her, but it seems really off to me that after all this bugging you to come see her for months, when you finally show up in Indiana she can't get even just an hour or two to meet you. That doesn't seem shady to you at all?"  
  
Sören frowned. He _was_ disappointed, but he also understood from his career as a doctor what it was like to not have much free time. It was going to be quite an adjustment after three months of vacation, to go back to London and the NHS. "I don't want to be too needy."  
  
"Something Juniper called you." Yeyette narrowed her eyes. "An hour of Serena's time isn't too needy."  
  
"Well... she'll get some time off in a few weeks. And I'll see where things go. I mean, it's not like she and I are gonna live together, so already it's not like the Juniper situation."  
  
Yeyette shook her head. "I just don't want to see you get hurt again."  
  
"I know. But I'm a big boy."  
  
Yeyette smirked. "Hi A Big Boy, I'm Yeyette."  
  
Sören kicked her under the table.  
  
  
_  
  
  
Sören woke up again with a start, just before dawn.  
  
Since he was four years old, he'd had a recurring nightmare about burning to death, going up in smoke and ash. As far as he knew, he hadn't been exposed to anything like a neighbor's house burning, or another fire in town, or something on television, at that age. And when he was a teenager the dreams began to evolve, a pack of demonic creatures with flaming whips ambushing him. That, he knew, could be symbolic of his experience with being bullied in school, getting beaten up more than once, but it felt like more than that. And when the dreams evolved further, a woman among the fire demons, delivering the death blow, Sören had chalked that up to the problems in his relationship with Juniper, even though it still felt like more... much more intense and realistic than his other dreams.  
  
Those dreams had mostly stopped since he'd moved in with Nicholas and Anthony. He still occasionally had strange dreams - forging swords and weapons, crafting fine jewelry, making love with men who looked like Nicholas and Anthony but Nicholas was young, clean-shaven, and had a flood of dark hair and startlingly blue eyes, and Anthony was _blond_. But he'd had a welcome respite from the burning dreams.  
  
Until now.  
  
Now he was sweating, gasping for breath. The room was too hot - the lingering feeling of the fire taking him - and he had kicked off the covers. Nicholas and Anthony both sat up, and Sören knew they could feel it across their Force bond. They both held him and rocked him.  
  
"It's OK, sweetheart," Anthony said, petting Sören's curls.  
  
Nicholas kissed Sören's brow. "Daddy's here, darling."  
  
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you..." Sören snuggled into Nicholas's shoulder, and leaned into Anthony's touch.  
  
"As you know, I am an early riser," Nicholas said. "I was planning on going for my usual morning walk. I know you aren't a morning person, but you're welcome to join me if you think it would help."  
  
Sören nodded. "Some fresh air might be good." Sören swore he could smell smoke, and he was sure the fireplace wasn't going, since it was July; the smoke from the grill had been gone for hours.  
  
Anthony went down the hall to visit the bathroom and he quickly came back, a confused look on his face. "Er," he said.  
  
"Hm?" Nicholas's eyebrows shot up; he had spent a good portion of last evening putting everyone's clothes away and now he was going through the drawers, getting an outfit together.  
  
"The cat..." Anthony blinked slowly, like he had witnessed something disturbing. "The cat... can..."  
  
"Use the toilet," Sören said.  
  
Anthony folded his arms and cocked his head to one side. "You knew?"  
  
"I found out in the middle of the night."  
  
"He was doing a number two," Anthony said. "The bathroom door closed right after I found him."  
  
"I'm guessing he's used to not having to close the door when he's up here." Sören patted him. "He's toilet-trained and Force-sensitive."  
  
Anthony sat down. "OK."  
  
"I mean, if humans can be Force-sensitive it makes sense some animals are too. Though it was unsettling, when I saw what I did last night." Sören patted him again.  
  
"Makes you wonder what other weird things we're going to see," Anthony said.  
  
Sören snorted. "This is Indiana. How weird could it get?"  
  
"This is the same state that produced Michael Jackson," Nicholas quipped.


End file.
